


Can I Keep Him?

by Eat0crow



Series: SuperTerrestrial [1]
Category: Supernatural, Young Justice (Cartoon)
Genre: Beta Wanted, Family Bonding, Fix-It of Sorts, Friendship, Gen, I Just Want Conner To Have The Family He Deserves, Vague Hand-wavy Gestures At Time Line, You Will Pry Momma Bear Dean From My Cold Dead Hands
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-31
Updated: 2019-10-31
Packaged: 2021-01-15 14:31:33
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,394
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21254903
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Eat0crow/pseuds/Eat0crow
Summary: The one where Jack gets a pet, Conner gets a family, and Dean gets another son.





	Can I Keep Him?

**Author's Note:**

> There is a surprising lack of DCU Supernatural crossovers and after reading a couple, _ most of the tag_, I had the strongest need to write my own because really Jack deserves friends and Young Justice Conner is perfect for him. They literally have so much in common, I just want to write about them trying and _failing_ to understand humans together in addition to the family fluff season 15 is making me desperately crave.
> 
> High Key I really hated Dean's treatment of Jack in canon. Like I know was morning Cas's death and you know that whole issue with his mother but...Dean is good with kids. He likes them, you're not telling me that Jack wouldn't grow on him.
> 
> Momma Bear/Big Brother/ Father Figure Dean is the best Dean and one that you can take away from my cold dead hands.

In hindsight, Dean probably should have gotten suspicious when Jack started acting flightier than usual, but at the time well, it’s not like their relationship was on the best of terms. No one would have blamed the kid for taking the hint and staying as far away from Dean’s temper as the bunker allowed,_which as it turned out was pretty far_,the kid managed to disappear for days.

The disappearing act had been alarming, if only because Jack for all that Sam liked to pretend otherwise, is still a living weapon, a _monster_ hiding in human skin. When he says as much, bringing up the stark lack of Jack around the bunker, Sam and Cas give him _looks_. 

As it turns out, both his brother and his best friend, almost kinda boyfriend,_ after forty years and a couple of round trips through hell he can safely say he’s over labels_, don’t find anything wrong with the picture. Cas and Sam are disappointed, they all but scream at him to trust the kid, to give him a chance, you know like he’s not the literal spawn of Satan.

It’s easier now for him to be around Jack, for him to talk to the kid with Cas is back. Mom is still very much gone but her loss is a _familiar ache_, one that Dean’s always known. No matter how many times he loses Cas, it’s a pain that _never_ dulls. 

He’s trying, really he is, to give the kid a chance, to see Jack the way Sam sees him and he sees Sam.

It’s slow progress.

Dean may have some trust issues, either way, it’s not like it matters much. After an hour-long argument that amounts to, we have bigger things to worry about than where Jack’s going Dean, have you forgotten Micheal, the topic of the disappearing Nephilim is shelved until further notice-_ish_.

Dean is always going to notice when the kid up and leaves for a day, he has a pressing need to keep tabs on him. Distrust is part of it, yes but it’s becoming a smaller and smaller part as time passes.

Neither Sam nor Cas,_both Lucifer's former vessels_, would keep Jack around if he was anything like his father. It’s taken some time for Dean to see that.

Dean decides to trust his brother and his partner if only because he can’t trust Jack, not yet at least, and ignore the new flighty attitude.

Jack is a teenager, after all, no one wanted to know what a sixteen-year-old guy did in his alone time.

* * *

Dean lets a lot slide with Jack now. He tells himself it’s because while Jack is only a year old he’s old enough to make his own choices and _not_ because he feels guilty over how he treated him when he first came into Sam’s care. Even to his own ears, the reasoning falls flat.

He does feel guilty after all, especially at times like this when Jack is hunched over himself, looking scared and small and _almost his age_.

They’re in the war room, the closest thing that they have to a communal living room. Sam and Cas have a pile of books each in front of them, Dean’s been nursing his beer for the better part of a half-hour. There’s a hunt up north, somewhere in one of the Dakotas, Sam’s somehow managed to pull Cas into research detail with him. 

They’re both so engrossed in the lore that neither notices when Jack comes in. Granted, Dean wouldn’t have noticed either if Jack hadn’t been walking in from the hall opposite his chair. Jack shuffles his feet, shoulders drawn. He’s picking at his nails, his newest nervous habit and looking down.

Dean waits a minute, giving Jack the chance to break the tension himself. When he doesn’t Dean clears his throat, nudging Cas to look up.

“Jack,” Cas says dipping his head in acknowledgment. Dean isn’t sure if Cas picks up on Jack’s body language, he’s always been bad at reading social cues. 

Sam clears his throat. “Is something the matter?” 

Jack looks up, his gaze flickering to Dean like he’s afraid that Dean will yell at him, which stings a bit. Dean deserves it no question but he had thought they had made some progress and maybe they had, just not as much as Dean would have liked.

“I was wondering,” Jack starts, swaying a bit on the ball of his feet. “I was wondering if I could have a pet?”

“_A pet_?” Dean echoes with a touch of disbelief.

The bunker has a list of unofficial rules, they’re simple, don’t show anyone who’s not family where the bunker is, don’t mess with Dean’s car, and oh yes, don’t bring animals inside. Dean had thought these rules were working so well.

“Dean,” Sam whipsters his tone biting.

“Yes, I wanted to know if I could adopt one,” Jack says, more confident this time.

“What like a dog?” Dean asks, he's never been overly fond of animals.  
“It’s a good idea,” Sam says before Jack can explain exactly what kind of pet he wants. 

“How exactly is it a good idea, huh?” Dean asks challengingly.

“Come on, pets teach kids some important stuff.”

“Oh yeah, like what?”

“Like responsibility and compassion!” Sam flinches when he sees Jack take a step back. Jack isn’t good when it comes to anger from anyone of them, Dean has been working on keeping his voice leveled when he's angry now. Sam lower his voice. “I’m just saying, it would be good for him.”

“We’re hunters Sammy,” Dean says, throwing his hands up in the air. There’s a multitude of reasons why giving Jack a pet would be a bad idea. Their occupation was just the tip of the iceberg. “What are we going to do with it when we’re out on a hunt. We’re sure as hell aren't taking it with us. No way am I letting an animal in Baby.”

“There are pets who are self-sufficient,” Sam grumbles.

“Yeah pretty sure even a goldfish needs to be fed genius.”

“Enough,” Cas cuts in, he had been watching Jack throughout their argument. “Jack, why exactly do you want a pet?”

“I read that pets are people's best friends,” Jack says.

_Why the fuck did he have to go and say that?_

There’s no way any of them would be able to deny Jack now. Not without looking like some monster who squished little kids hopes of friendship for shits and giggles. Already Dean can just feel Sam’s patented bitch face, daring him to go and crush the poor kid's hope.

All Dean can do is look down into his hands and sigh.

He was outnumbered 2-1. Being a co-parent sucked.

“Just make sure whatever you get can feed itself. We don’t want it dying while we’re on a hunt.”

Jack’s smile is nearly blinding as he thanks them before taking off. Presumably to get his new pet, definitely to give Dean a headache. If he brought home a _fucking parrot_!

He’s too sober to even think about it.

* * *

Adjusting to Jack bringing a pet into the bunker hadn’t been hard, things didn’t really change...at all. Which now that Dean is thinking about it should have clued them in that Jack hadn’t adopted a puppy from the local shelter. 

Dean’s been harboring the hope that Jack had found himself a nice feral cat to play with. One that would let him pet it from time to time but was ultimately a creature that took care of itself. 

A feral cat was the best scenario when you consider the fact that no one had ever seen Jack’s pet and when asked about it Jack simply stated that, “He’s shy.”

A feral cat would most likely live, _hopefully_, live outside and be distrustful enough of people to keep it far away from the general populace. It may have been slightly sad that Dean’s highest hope is for Jack's first pet to be a feral animal but…

Dean really has been trying to stop himself from actively imagining exactly what sort of creature a nephilim would choose for himself.

Angels have weird taste, Cas’s bee obsession being evidence enough and oh, Dean had already checked around the property for hives, presently there were none. Dean had very little hope of it remaining that way come spring. He _really_ shouldn’t have let Cas tag along to look. 

Now he knew exactly where the perfect spot for his colony was.

Imminent bee infestation, _yes Cas four hives are an infestation_, aside chances are that Jack’s taste in pets strayed a little off list from the standard Petco approved first-time pet owners pamphlet. 

Bottom line, if Jack had a feral cat it couldn't crawl out from under his bed in the middle of the night and eat him…_ hopefully_.

* * *

Sometimes when Dean walks by Jack’s room he hears thumping. Whether he _actually_ hears whispers coming from the room is up for debate but he definitely hears thumping. A Lot of thumping actually.

Reluctantly Dean tries to turn the knob only to find it locked. 

Not suspicious in the least. _Nope, not at all_.

He settles for banging his fist against the wall. “You okay in there?”

There’s a bit more shuffling, the sound of shattering glass coming from the other side before Jack grunts, “Yes. I’m okay.”

His voice is strained. Dean really doesn’t want to read into this. _Jack isn’t even two yet_. 

“Alright then,” he says a bit awkwardly running his hands through his hair. 

He could just pick the lock and open the door himself but the trust they have is a fragile thing and Dean doesn’t want to break it. Not with yet another possible apocalypse hanging over their heads.

That aside, Dean really doesn't want to walk in on anything. Nope, it’s a Cas,_who conveniently doesn’t understand boundaries or feel an ounce of embarrassment_, problem. Granted Cas probably wouldn’t understand Dean’s discomfort with the situation either but, well at least _he_ wouldn’t have to deal with it.

* * *

Dean is wrong. 

Very, _very terribly wrong_ about whose problem this is going to be. Because when he brings it up after dinner about a week later Sam gets it into his head that it’s high time for Dean to give Jack _The Talk_.

Dean is so fucking glad he waited to mention the thumping until _after_ Jack had gone up to bed.

* * *

Maybe when the grocery bill more than doubled and they started making food runs nearly every other day, Dean should have investigated a bit. He hadn’t thought it was all that odd. In the broad scheme of things, a sudden appetite was normal.

Jack is a growing boy, a boy who conveniently placed somewhere around fifteen to seventeen. Teenage boys were bottomless pits. They ate everything in sight, Dean vividly remembers eating anything left on a plate in front of him at that age. So really it makes _perfect sense_ that their groceries would have to increase at some point. 

It was bound to happen.

Jack had always liked to eat, unlike Cas he could taste food as more than just molecules. So if they needed to take a few odd jobs and hustle a bit, Dean wasn’t going to say anything. He had tried his hardest to make sure Sam always had enough to eat, so while he had fallen flat back when he was still a kid himself there was _no way_ he was going to now.

He stops Sam from mentioning anything about it to Jack. Insisting that, “It’s not like it’s a problem, kids eat.”

Sam doesn’t push the matter with him, just presses his mouth into a thin line and lets the subject drop. _He gets it_.

They let Jack take Tupperware containers back to his room along with snacks and don’t ask him to explain anything when he simply says, “I’m hungry.”

They all want Jack to be as normal a kid as possible and kids get to be hungry. 

Dean decides to teach Jack to cook. Sam had been surprised when he mentioned it, snickering something about being a Momma Bear into his hand as Dean whacked him across the head, Cas had given him an unbelievably fond look, and Jack, Jack had flashed him the _biggest_ smile Dean’s ever seen on the kid.

Because the reality of it is that Sam can’t cook for shit and Dean’s not going to be around forever. A Hunter’s life expectancy is short, pushing forty his days started to be numbered a solid decade ago. Cas is a lost cause when it comes to the kitchen, so while it’s doubtful that Jack can get food poisoning in the first place, it’s better not to take any chances. With an appetite like his, living on take-out just isn't going to cut it.

Fortunately, Jack _loves_ to cook.

He’s not the greatest at it, he burns the pie they spend hours on and boils the pasta they attempt to make to paste but he tries. He always is trying, watching Dean’s every move and taking in his every word. It reminds him of Sam back when they were still kids.

* * *

Jack starts tagging along on food runs with whoever's heading out. Sam says the kid probably has cabin fever from being cooped up without a hunt for so long. Dean relates immensely, it hasn’t been all that long, maybe a month, but already he’s feeling jittery from staying in one place.

If he claims most of the supply runs no one says anything to him about it. Cas actually looks pleased over the amount of bonding that Jack and Dean have been doing. 

It’s on a maybe they’re third shopping trip when Dean catches Jack staring at a blanket. It’s one of the decorative fleece blankets Walmart sells for every season, light grey with the word hunter written in black across the center. There’s a silhouette of a rifle just above the words with camo trim running across the edges.

It’s tacky as all hell and looks _exactly_ like what you would expect to find in a backwoods town during the opening of deer season. It’s also $10.99 and Jack has never actually asked Dean for anything before.

“You want it?” Dean asks, taking if off the rack and holding it out to Jack.

“Not for me,” Jack says bundling the blanket up in his arms. Dean lifts an eyebrow at that. “For my pet. It’s his birthday next week.”

“You want to get your pet a hunting blanket?” 

“Sam said hunting is the family business and he’s part of the family too.” Jack rubs his face across the blanket. “It’s his first birthday so I need to get the perfect gift.”

“Alright.” Dean pushes the carriage forward a bit. “Put it in the cart. We’ll stop by the pet aisle and you can get him a chew toy or something.”

* * *

Jack tugs on Dean’s sleeve just before they start to check out. “It’s a good gift, right?”

“It’s perfect kid.” Dean smiles ruffling Jack’s hair. He scans the blanket and the Superman themed chewy bone first.

* * *

Jack is still banned from the kitchen on Thanksgiving, as eager as he is to help he’s still a beginner. Baby steps. It has absolutely nothing to do with the Jack’s apparent inability to get food poisoning, _Chuck knows the kid would have gotten it by now if it was possible_, and everything to do with their own self-preservation. 

Jack might be happy to eat anything placed in front of him, blackened edges included, but the rest of them...not so much. 

It didn’t matter that Jack stared at him like he had personally killed his probably not a puppy, Jody and the girls were coming over. Dean had a reputation to uphold! A reputation that did not involve liquified mashed potatoes and yes, Dean had _seen_ Jack manage it.

Jack turns on him with the most heartbreaking kicked puppy expression Dean has ever seen when he learns about his temporary ban from the kitchen. His bottom lip trembles, eyes getting misty as he looks up over the fringe of his hair.

“What if I promise to follow every direction,” Jack sniffles into his sleeve. “I’ve been getting better.”

Dean gulps, a shiver going down his spine. A quick check over his shoulder proves that yup, Cas is staring _right at him_. “Listen kid…”

Jack’s lip makes a dangerous wobble.

He ends up sending the boy off with a whole pie, _the apple crumble one with cinnamon on top_, just to make him stop. Jack’s happy enough after his acquisition. Ducking out the door of the bunker to share his prize with his pet. For a fraction of a second Dean swears he sees a smirk flash across Jack’s face.

Which doesn't make sense because the last time he checked Jack couldn't act to save his life. Literally, his life had been dependent on his ability to lie and manipulate before and the kid had failed _miserably_. He has the scar to prove it!

Belatedly Dean registers that he's sharing his pie with his pet ...the pet that no ones seen to this day.

Feral cats ate pie right?

Who was Dean kidding, what didn’t eat pie?

* * *

“Hey Dean, have you seen my jacket?” Sam asks coming into the laundry room where Dean is folding clothes. 

Dean likes doing his own laundry and not because he’s fussy, _screw you Sam_, but rather because it was something mundane to occupy his time with.

“Yeah, it’s on your back.” 

“Come on man, I mean my fleece one. You know the-”

“Plaid monstrosity that’s got more patches then pattern now?” Dean snarks, watching Sam roll his eyes. “Can’t say that I have.”

Which is a complete lie. It’s a good thing Sam’s never been able to recognize Dean’s poker face. He buys the lie, leaving while muttering under his breath about that being his favorite jacket.

Dean has a pretty good idea of where it’s gone. Two weeks ago he had caught Jack sneaking back to his room with a bundle of Sam and his clothes in his hands, muttering about it getting cold outside.

Seeing how Jack didn’t really feel temperature changes...Dean would guess that the pilfered items were made into some kind of nest for his pet to burrow in.

* * *

He really should have known something was up when he got a call from a 401 area code and picked up to a call from a school in Rhode Island. 

“Sorry, would you mind running that by me one more time,” Dean says, he’s just started to wake up. “The connections a bit fuzzy, I couldn’t quite catch that.”

“Sure this is Erin from Happy Harbor High School, I’m looking for a Dean or Sam Winchester are either available by chance?” The receptionist repeats, her voice louder and more chipped this time. 

So Dean had heard right the first time. It wasn’t overly strange for Hunters to use each other as alibis. You could only flash a card with a fake number around for so long before someone actually called to verify your story. More than once had he fielded questions for Claire and the girls, even playing at being Jody’s FBI contact.

He was no Bobby that was for sure, but he had a couple of spare burner phones with preset voicemails just in case.

Dean wipes a hand down face his face as he clears the sleep from his voice, something told him that he was going to need a drink after this. _A strong one_. “This is Dean Winchester, how can I help.”

“I’m calling about your son, Conner.”

Dean doesn’t know who Conner is, hell for all he does know it could be a fake name, but nevertheless, he’s going to have a serious talk with whoever is using him as an alibi. _A very long talk_. One that involves never using him as a faux father again. Jack was enough.

He didn’t need to collect kids like pokemon.

“Is he in trouble,” Dean sighs. In his experience schools called home for two reasons, owing lunch money or breaking the rules, when it came to him and Sam it was most often both.

Erin lets out a chuckle on the other side of the phone. “No, not at all. I’m actually calling about conferences, Conner’s teacher said you didn’t show up to the open house last night.”

“That was last night?” Dean asks in genuine bewilderment. It’s six in the morning, he hadn’t even been _remotely prepared_ for this conversation. A little heads up would have been nice. “I’m so sorry about that. I’m away on a business trip at the moment I’m afraid.”

Erin hums. “Well, we would just like to remind you and your partner that Happy Harbor has a zero-tolerance policy on discrimination based on sexual orientation, gender identity, and race.”

“My partner…” Dean echoes a hollowly because really how many strangers know about Cas. Hell, the majority of Hunters don’t know him. 

“I know it can be a bit disconcerting but please know that both you and Sam will be more than welcome to attend conferences together.” Erin lowers her voice like she’s sharing a secret before continuing. “I know you only took Conner in recently and well, I remember my first open house here after me and my wife adopted our daughter Katie. It can be scary for new parents, so I just wanted to let you know that you have our support.”

It’s a valiant effort but Dean can’t help the choked noise that comes from his throat. Erin hears it and takes it as a need for reassurance. She launches into an explanation of the school's tolerance policies as well as the ventures of the GSA club, with an “I’m sure Conner’s told you about this but..”

This isn’t the first time they’ve been mistaken as boyfriends instead of brothers, Dean can kind of see where Erin would assume it to. She had called looking for two men that shared the same last name and _apparently_, custody of a kid. Sure most hunters knew about the Winchesters and the fact that they are brothers, hell civilians knew about them...shipping still happened though.

If there was one thing in his life that Dean _really can’t_ forgive Chuck for, it’s the Wincest fans. Really he could handle the apocalypse and all the other world ending, _Hey your God and you put me through hell level trauma_, but he drew the line at being shipped with his brother. It was a small mercy that the supernatural books hadn’t caught on to mainstream media. 

Dean’s not sure he would have been able to handle that… not after the convention.

The play was one thing, those girls had ultimately been on to something, the cosplaying partners...nope a _blank page_ had more subtext than Dean and Sam’s relationship.

Despite desperately wanting to correct the nice lady on the phone so badly and assure her that there is no place in hell where Dean and Sam are together, and oh yes after a trip he _knows that for a fact_, Dean bites his lip hard. He doesn’t know what kind of hunt this kid is on. Hell, he doesn’t know if Conner has backup. 

Shaking the story could very well put Conner in danger, _more danger than the giant target of claiming ties to the Winchesters already puts him in_. 

Dean doesn’t want to hurt him. Sure he’s kinda pissed over being used for an alibi without his permission and worse yet being shipped with his baby brother but that doesn’t mean he’s willing to out a kid that’s at least young enough to visually pass as a high schooler. Hunters code and all that.

With a honeyed voice Dean promises to email Conner’s teacher for an available conference slot, Erin even manages to weasel him into agreeing to run a GSA meeting. Apparently, she’s the faculty supervisor for the club and is not above using homemade baked goods as a bribe.

He’s been awake for less than an hour and by the time he finally gets off the phone, Dean’s itching to reach into the fridge and grab a beer. Deciding that despite being a quarter to seven it’s five o’clock somewhere. Honestly, at this point, Sam’s pointed comments about being an alcoholic to avoid his feelings will be _worth it_.

He needs to get the conversation off his tongue.

* * *

Sam comes into the kitchen an hour later with Jack trailing behind him like a duckling. 

“We missed our son’s open house last night,” Dean says.

Sam pulls a face, glancing at Jack from the corner of his eye. “What?”

“A school called from up in Rhode Island,” Dean says with dry humor in his voice. “Oh and get this, apparently some hunter named Conner is using us for an alibi and we missed his open house.”

Jack freezes in place, glancing between Sam whose face has somehow simultaneously lost all color and gained greenish hue and Dean, whose frown is so deep-set it looks like it's carved into his face. Wisely Jack turns tail and leaves right back through the door he came in from.

“Using us as in.” Sam makes some loose hand gesture that probably is supposed to mean together but looks more like he’s mashing his hands in an attempt to pray.

Dean holds out a beer to him. “As in two and a half men. Lawfully wedded. Adam and Steve style.”

“Right,” Sam says taking to the bottle and popping it open. “I’m going to make some calls.”

* * *

It really shouldn’t have taken Dean walking in on Jack cuddled up with a boy on his bed for him to realize just where he went wrong with the whole Jack-pet-thing.

He really shouldn’t have assumed that a nephilim would just choose something perfectly normal and harmless like a feral cat.

“SAM. CAS. Get in here!” Dean yells, taking note of the fact that both Jack and the boy flinch.

Cas bleeps into existence by his side in an instant while Sam runs down the hall. Dean can hear his footsteps bang on the floor. It takes less than a minute for him to get to Jack’s room.

“Dean, Dean what’s the matter?” Sam’s breathless when he finally joins the party.

“Oh I don’t know, Jack you want to tell us _who the fuck this is_?” He asks, grabbing the gun out from his pocket, he cocks it, leveling it at the boy who’s still laying in Jack’s bed. For his part, the boy doesn’t even seem remotely fazed by the threat of a bullet. He just stares back cooly at Dean, one eyebrow raised.

“This is Conner.” Jack grins

Sam gulps. “Conner?”

“You know the rule no one-?” 

“Who isn’t family is allowed in the bunker.” Jack’s face twists in confusion. “ I didn’t break any rules. I asked if I could adopt a pet and you all said yes.”

“Your pet,” Dean splutters. “Of course the Lucifers _literal fucking spawn_ would keep a fucking person for a pet.”

“Dean!” Cas bites back harshly.

“Sorry!” Dean glances over at Jack, he’s cowering a bit behind the boy whose apparently Conner,_ Happy Harbor Conner_, and boy does that kid have a fucking glare on him. Jack’s flinch takes away some of Dean’s anger and he lowers his voice a bit, cutting out the bite. “I’m sorry. But come on, I’m not the only one who thinks a nephilim keeping a human as a pet is fucked up.”

“Oh, Conner’s not a human” Jack says as if that makes _it any better_.

“He’s not?” Sam asks shooting a glance over at Cas for confirmation. Cas for his part has his face scrunched up like he’s trying to solve a puzzle. “What is he..”

“A clone.”

“A Kryptonian.”

Cas and Jack say at the same time. Dean and Sam share a look. Well turns out Conner isn’t a Hunter he’s a huntee.

Sam elbows his side whispering under his breath, “Remember the best friend thing.”

Dean does and suddenly a lot of things make a lot of sense. His mind flashes back to the Wal-Mart trip when they’d gotten the blanket Conner is currently huddled under. What had Jack said back then, pets were part of the family too. Hell, the kid had even given Conner Sam’s missing jacket. The one that _everyone_ called a family heirloom. 

“Jack, you can’t keep monsters for pets. I don’t care if they look human. You can’t do it.”

“Sam said you used to have a pet vampire.” Jack’s tone is downright petulant, all he needs to do to complete the picture is cross his arms.

“_Did he now_?” Dean asks darkly, giving Sam a scathing look that he hopes conveys just how pissed he is at that.

“He did, besides Conner isn’t a monster.” 

“Of course E.T’s a fucking monster,” Dean says. “Aliens are just monsters we don’t fucking hunt.”

Dean glances at Cas for support, it’s a mistake because all Cas does is shrug his shoulders.“Conner does lack a connection to the supernatural.”

“The last thing we need are superheroes getting in our business. We don’t deal with aliens we deal with monsters.” Superhero protected cities are generally out of bounds for hunters, who for the majority made their living off of credit card fraud and petty theft. Fighting the good fight didn’t pay the bills. There is a reason why John Constantine is the only Hunter, _if he can even be called that_, who will work with heroes. _A fucking good reason too_. Dean grumbles under his breath, “Constantine is bad enough.”

_Really he is._

“Jack, you can’t just adopt people,” Sam tries. “He has a family.”

“He does.” Jack nods. “Our family. I gave him a hunting blanket and I’ve been taking really good care of him?”

Conner makes a sound of affirmation as he straightens the blanket out, pulling it taut so that the word Hunter is on display. 

“Someone has to be taking care of him,” Sam says.

“I was with Cadmus until a few months ago,” Conner says. 

Dean isn’t sure what Cadmus is but from the dark look on Jack’s face, he can guess that it’s nothing good.

“He doesn’t have a family.” Jack squeezes Conner’s hand. “At least not a family other than ours.”

“Superman...isn't really in the picture,” Conner admits a little awkwardly. “And the League only checks in if they need something.”

“Jack,” Cas starts a tiny bit disapprovingly.

“He knows where the bunker is so no take-backsies,” Jack says hurriedly. Dean has no clue where he learned that word. “He also knows what we do and says he’ll help.”

“Hunting isn’t something you want to get your friends involved in Jack. It’s dangerous.” Sam sighs.

“I already put myself in danger. If Jack needs my help, he’ll get it.” Conner does cross his arms as he stares at them all defiantly.

His loyalty wins him points. Conner’s probably even more durable than Jack is if the available information on Superman is anywhere close to accurate. Still, none of them liked taking Jack hunting. They don’t like Claire hunting.

It was just that no one ever listened when someone said that kids had no business chasing monsters.

“I already forged the papers,” Jack says proudly. “I made a fake birth certificate and hacked his school records like you showed me Sam.”

“Did you at least change the name of his guardians?” Sam buries his face into his hands.

Jack nods. “I did. Sorry, I didn’t think they would assume you two were together.”

“You adopted Super…” Dean trails off, gesturing vaguely toward the Superman t-shirt the kid’s wearing.

“Superboy,” Conner mumbles.

“Right, you adopted Superboy,” Dean says. 

“Yes.” Jack takes a bundle of papers off his nightstand and holds them out for Cas. “You and Cas did too, see it has the state seal and everything. Can I keep him? ”

Dean does the only logical thing he can think of, he takes out the flask he keeps at his side, opens the caps, and takes a _long drink_.

**Author's Note:**

> I like to think that there were a lot of little things that all added up to this, lots of misunderstanding humans and exploiting loopholes. ps Jack absolutely gave Conner the chew toy.
> 
> About the parrot comment, I actually love them. I have one myself and he's my baby, but parrots aren't beginner pets. They take a lot of work and attention and are _ really fucking loud_. A parrot in the bunker would last a couple of hours.
> 
> As always feel free to message me here or on my Tumblr eat0crow


End file.
